


13 Going on 30

by a_shot_in_the_dark



Category: Common Law
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 03:18:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_shot_in_the_dark/pseuds/a_shot_in_the_dark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Wes Mitchell dreams of being thirty, strong, and handsome. In an interesting turn of events, the 13 year-old wakes up in his thirty year-old body in the future. But will it be everything he dreamed of?</p>
<p>Based on the movie 13 Going on 30, also based off mizufallsfromkumo's prompt</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thirteen

**Author's Note:**

> I really just can't tell what's good and what's bad anymore. Welp, I'll just post this anyway. I'm done with this already, so I'll try to remember to post regularly. It isn't long, just 4 chapters. Rated teen for language
> 
> I got the idea from mizufallsfromkumo, and I hope I did it justice! 
> 
> Ps. This movie is so cute. I'm in love with it. Go watch it.

Wes walked down the street, tugging at the collar of his button-down shirt. He was supposed to go straight to school, but most thirteen year-olds disobey their parents once in a while, and this was one of those instances for Wes Mitchell. He was going to go to the shop nearby that sold guns. He didn’t like killing things. No, he wanted to be a cop, and a good cop knew weapons through and through in order to protect innocent civilians. 

He opened the door and the bell clanged. The owner of the shop, Mr. Redford, recognized Wes and waved him over. 

“Hello, Wes.”

“Hi, Mr. Redford.”

“I’m cleaning a handgun and putting it back together. Would you like to see?” he asked. Wes nodded eagerly and followed him to the back. He started to work silently. They both liked silence, and he usually respected that, but today it seemed he had other plans as he looked up at the skinny blonde.

“Other kids still picking on you?”

Wes shrugged.

“What’s that mean?”

“It means ‘no big deal, leave it alone.’”

Mr. Redford shook his head. “You sure do have a tongue on you. You’re going to have to watch that unless you want to end up all alone.”

Wes bit his lip, blushing furiously. He didn’t like to be reprimanded. Still, he stayed and watched him put the gun together. Mr. Redford bent over to pick up a piece he dropped, groaning.

“Oh… boy, do I miss being thirty. Not too young, not too old. Strong and fit and handsome. That’s a picture of me there when I was thirty.”

He pointed to a photograph of a handsome man taped to the wall. Wes gaped at it.

“That’s you?”

He laughed. “Yep. Best years of my life. Now you’ve seen everything to be seen, so get going. School’s about to start.”

“Yes, sir,” Wes said, giving the gun one last look before dashing off for class.

 

He worked hard in each class up until lunch. The bell rang and he went to his locker, grabbing his lunchbag. When he shut his locker door, Travis Marks was standing there. Wes and Travis had always kind of been friends since they lived so close to each other. They bickered a lot, and Travis was way more popular than him, but it worked. 

“Why didn’t you walk with me to school today?”

“Oh… uh, I went to the gun shop,” Wes said, walking off. Travis hurried to catch up with him.

“Without me?”

Wes gave him an annoyed look. “I do things without you occasionally, Travis.”

Crowell, a big kid who was into the wrong stuff, stopped them, his group of thugs surrounding him. He pushed Wes.

“You’re in my way.”

“Hey, lay off, Crowell,” Travis said. Wes gave him a sharp look.

“Oh, I see you need help from the jock,” Crowell teased.

“No, I don’t,” Wes said.

“You don’t?” he asked, pushing Wes into a locker. The other boys laughed, but Travis stepped forward.

“Leave him alone!”

“I ain’t got nothing against you, Marks. Just having a bit of fun.”

“Have it somewhere else,” Travis growled.

Crowell rolled his eyes, but he and his gang walked off after pushing Wes into the locker one last time. Wes’ head was throbbing. He glared at Travis.

“I don’t need your help!”

“Wes!”

Wes ran off toward the lunchroom, ignoring Travis. He was just fine without him. He could handle it. Alex MacFarland waved him over, and he sat down next to her and her friends. He didn’t have many friends, so it was a relief to sit with Alex, even if he didn’t know her friends well. 

“Hey, it’s your birthday, right?” Alex asked as the table was emptying at the end of lunch. Wes blushed. He didn’t think anyone would remember. He nodded. Alex took a packet out of her pocket.

“Here. I got you this packet of wishing dust,” she said, “Just sprinkle some in your hand and say what you want. It’s kind of dorky, I know, but I thought you could use a little magic lately.”

Wes smiled. “Thanks, Alex. It’s sweet.”

He gave her a hug. He’d thought about asking her to be his girlfriend before. She was pretty, and they got along well. But it seemed like there was supposed some kind of spark when he was around the person he liked. His brain flashed over to Travis and he blushed. He didn’t know why he thought about Travis like that. He didn’t think he was gay. If he was, Crowell would _really_ have a great time making fun of him. He didn’t think it was bad to be gay; he was just scared that he’d get made fun of for it. Anyway, he wasn’t sure he was. Just… sometimes Travis was nice to him. And he was pretty attractive… with large, kissable lips and really blue eyes.

He shook his head and waved to Alex before gathering up his lunch and throwing his trash away. Class went pretty smoothly. He walked along the railroad tracks, on his way home, clutching the straps of his backpack. He felt something hit his backpack and stopped, glanced back. He saw Crowell and his gang following him. One threw a rock at him, and it hit him on the chest. He cried out and rubbed the spot, turning and hurrying along. He felt the rocks coming at him harder and started to run, veering off the tracks and onto a dirt road.

“I bet you suck jock cock!” Crowell shouted, and his gang of guys laughed. They threw more rocks and one hit him on the cheek. He felt blood dripping down.

“Wes?!”

He groaned at the sound of the familiar voice.

“There’s his jock cock!”

Travis jogged up to him, his hand immediately going to his wound. “Wes, did they do this to you?”

Wes thrashed at him, and Travis pulled away. “You just make everything worse, Travis! Leave me alone!”

Wes ran for an abandoned building. He didn’t hear any of them following. He brought his knees up. The packet of wishing dust fell out of his pocket. He hesitated, then picked it up and tore it open.

“I wish I was thirty. I wish I was handsome, and strong, and thirty. I wish I was thirty. I wish I was thirty…”

He closed his eyes as he chanted. He felt the wind pick up and swirl around him…


	2. Thirty

Wes rolled over in bed, blinking his eyes open. Everything felt odd… in fact, this wasn’t even his bedroom.

He sprang up in bed in surprise, rolling off the bed and landing with a thud on the floor. He groaned and sat up, looking around. It looked like… a hotel room? A really fancy one. He stood up and walked out of the bedroom, glancing out of the doorway.

“Mom?”

He stepped out, going into the living area of the hotel room. “Swanky,” he breathed. He looked around again.

“Dad?” 

And then he looked in the mirror. He let out a shriek, tripping backwards and onto his butt. He scrambled up quickly and went closer to the mirror. He ran his fingers along his stubble and grinned. The face in the mirror still looked like him, but his jaw and cheekbones were more pronounced. He lifted up his shirt and grinned again at his abs. He thought about taking a peek down his pants when he heard music.

It sounded like a jazz song, but he didn’t recognize it. He looked around wildly before discovering it was coming from a small, flat electronic. It looked like a phone but there were no numbers. It said to swipe, so he swiped his finger along it. He heard a voice, so he held it to his ear.

“Hello? Wes?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s half past, man. You’re late,” the voice said.

“…What am I late for again?”

“Work!”

“And who is this?” Wes asked. There was a pause.

“It’s Travis. Your partner?”

He felt his face flush. “P-partner?”

“Police partner. We’re cops, remember? You high?”

“What?

“Hungover?”

What? No! Travis, the craziest thing happened. I wished with the wishing dust and I turned thirty. I was thirteen and now I’m thirty. And I… live in a hotel.”

“…Maybe you _shouldn’t_ come to work. Yeah, after your divorce with Alex-”

He was married to Alex and they divorced?!

“-you just… never found a place. Just take an hour and get yourself functioning and I’ll cover for you.”

“And then what?” Wes asked desperately.

“Then you grab your badge, wallet, and gun and you come to the police station,” Travis said.

“Gun?! I have a gun?” Wes breathed, rushing for his bedroom. He saw it on his bedside table and went over, picking it up and looking at it with adoration. 

“Yeah, just… try not to shoot or run over anyone, okay?”

“You want me to _drive_?” he asked.

“Well… maybe that’s a bad idea. I’ll come pick you up. Just meet me outside.”

Travis hung up. Wes mused about how Travis would look. His voice was certainly deeper. Wes grinned, suddenly overcome with joy about his new body, job, and place and jumped up on his bed, jumping up and down.

“I’m thirty! I’m thirty and handsome! I’m a cop with a gun and a car! I’m THIRTY!”

He laughed and landed on his butt, then went over to his closet. He frowned. His entire closet was dress-up shirts and pants, ties, and suits. He went to his dresser and discovered some shirts and jeans. He pulled them on. These jeans were tighter than the ones at home. He must have gotten them tailored, which meant these were expensive jeans. So he had money.

He went down outside of his building with his things, waiting for a car. Then he heard the sound of a motorcycle and turned, his mouth hanging open when he saw the man remove his helmet. It was Travis Marks all right, and he looked… good. _Really_ good. And he was on a motorcycle. Travis owned a motorcycle!

He went over and hugged Travis, happy to see him. Travis stiffened in his arms. When he pulled away, Travis was looking at him strangely.

“What?”

“We don’t… hug.”

“Oh,” Wes said. “Sorry.”

“And you don’t normally dress like that. You look good. Kinda hungover, but good.”

Wes felt his cheeks heat up. “Thanks. I like your bike.”

“…Thanks. Come on. And we can’t forget couple’s therapy later.”

Wes took the helmet that he held out for him, glancing up into the familiar blue eyes. 

“Couple’s therapy? Does that mean we’re like… dating?”

Travis choked. “Uh… no. Not at all.”

“Then why…?”

“Did you hit your head or something? You pulled your gun on me. Court-ordered therapy.”

Wes’ face fell. “Why would I pull my gun on you? You’re my friend.”

Travis’ face darkened and he looked away. “We used to be, didn’t we? Let’s not dredge this up now. They found a couple bodies in the park.”

“We’re in the robbery-homicide department?” he asked, his eyes lighting up. Travis smiled a little.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

Wes put on the helmet and got on, blushing as he wrapped his arms around Travis. They took off, heading downtown for the park. It was thrilling to be on a bike in L.A., and, if he was honest with himself, it was fun to be pressed up against Travis. They arrived at the park and got off the bike, crossing the police line and approaching the bodies. 

“Whoa,” Wes breathed, “It’s a real dead body!”

“Yeah…” Travis said. He went over to a cop and Wes went with him, listening to him give the low-down on the victims. Travis started adding information to that just by studying them. Wes blinked.

“Holy crap. Travis, you’re smart!”

Travis laughed a little. “Thanks for finally noticing, baby. Got anything to add?”

“Um… a middle-aged couple… I’d guess they’re romantically involved… and… old?”

Travis gave him a look. “You’re making it way too easy to make fun of you today, Wes.”

 

When they got to the station, Wes could hardly pay attention to Travis, looking around. And there was his desk! With _his_ name on it! 

“Wes!” Travis said, snapping his fingers, “I know you’re hungover, but you can do this. Now, listen. The couples’ names are Anna and Richard Hanover.”

He went on, explaining things to Wes and trying to keep him on track. Wes was more interested in why his desk looked so plain.

“You like everything plain,” Travis said when he asked. 

They went on, talking about the case. Wes was starting to get a hang of it when an older man approached them.

“Keeping up that zen energy, boys?”

“Yes, sir, Cap!” Travis said. Wes sat up straighter. This was his boss and he was… squeezing a stress ball?

“Yes, Captain?” he squeaked out. He gave him a curious look before walking off.

“That’s our boss?” Wes whispered.

“God, you really are hungover. Sutton, yeah. Think you can make it through therapy?”

Wes chuckled. “We really go to therapy? I mean, sure I can do it. No big deal.”


	3. The Kiss

They rode up to therapy, Travis chattering about how it was nice not having to be there really early like Wes usually made them be. Wes got off the bike, walking in with Travis. There was a circle of couples, with two empty chairs and a beautiful middle-aged woman at the opposite end of them.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. Please, take a seat,” the woman said in a British accent.

“Thank you…”

“Dr. Ryan. He’s a little hungover today,” Travis told them, and the others nodded. Wes wondered what the hell being hungover felt like, if it excused all sorts of odd behavior.  
“Let’s get started, shall we?” Dr. Ryan said. Wes and Travis sat down. Wes got pretty bored listening to couples’ problems, and embarrassed when they talked about sex. 

“Wes, let’s hear from you.”

He looked up and blinked. What was he supposed to say?

“Um… well, I don’t think I’m in a relationship after… Alex.” People nodded. “But I… kinda have a crush on someone.”

Some of them leaned forward. “Who?”

“Uh… it’s a secret. And I guess I should talk about me and Travis, right?” Dr. Ryan nodded and motioned for him to go on. “We’re, uh… getting along fine today.”

“Today, yeah. But every other day, you’re on my ass about something. I’m tired of it, man.”

Wes looked over at him in astonishment. “I’m mean to you?”

“Yeah, you always have been, but it’s gotten worse lately,” Travis said.

“This is good, but we’re running out of time. Let’s stop there and pick it up next week, yeah, guys?”

Wes and Travis exchanged a heated glance before nodding. Travis was pricklier after that. He drove him back to the station for them to work a little longer. Wes looked up when a big white guy entered the room. Travis looked over.

“Goddamnit. Crowell.”

“ _That’s_ Crowell?!” Wes yelped. Crowell looked over at him and walked up, grinning.

“Hello there. Sucking cop cock still?”

Wes just turned bright red.

“Hey, it doesn’t matter if we’re together or not. We’re still getting more action than a creep like you. So beat it,” Travis growled, “Go back to SIS.”

“Whatever,” Crowell said.

“Stupid as ever, I see,” Wes said, “You don’t have to defend me, Travis. I’m not a baby.”

“I’m just doing you a favor-”

“I don’t need any favors. Can I go home now?” Wes said. 

Travis took him home and left him. It was lonely, so Wes called his parents. Their answering machine said they were on a cruise. He looked through his phone and sighed. There weren’t many people in it. He found Alex’s name and dialed it eagerly.

“Hello?”

“Alex! Can we hang out?” 

There was a pause. “Uh… sure, Wes. I guess that’s okay. Come on over.”

“Where do you live again? I’m… uh, hungover.”

She gave him the address and he hung up. He took a taxi to the address, nervous about seeing her. Sure, she was still Alex, but at this time, he’d already seen her _naked_. And had sex with her. He tried to think about anything but sex and how tight his pants were and knocked on her door. His eyes widened when she answered the door. She was pretty.

“Hi, Wes. Come on in.”

She led him in and offered him something to drink. He chose soda. His parents didn’t let him drink much soda. He sipped it greedily.

“You’re not… trying to get back together again, right?” she asked. Wes looked up in surprise.

“No, no! I mean… we split for a reason… because…”

She sighed. “Your job. I hated you in the line of fire.”

“Right.” He gave her a weird look. “But if you loved me, why would that matter?”

“I’m not getting into this again, Wes. We’re over, that’s all there is to it,” she said in irritation.

“I’m sorry if I was mean to you,” he said. She smiled a little, and touched his hand.

“Me, too.”

 

The next day was Saturday, and Wes did everything he couldn’t do as a kid. He was about to try driving, but he got scared and chickened out. He went to bars, drank alcohol, and failed at flirting with a woman. He was at another bar when he spotted Travis.

“Travis!” he shouted happily, running over to him. Travis looked confused, but he smiled.

“Hey… Wes. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know… just looking for a date,” Wes said as casually as possible. Travis gave him a weird look.

“Are you having a mid-life crisis?”

“What? No. Why?” Wes asked, frowning.

“You’re acting really weird. You complimented my bike, you’re very enthusiastic about everything, and now you’re going to bars to pick up chicks?”

“I don’t do that?”

“No, man. You hate my bike, you yell at everyone about everything, and you don’t date. You just stay in your hotel room,” Travis said.

Wes bit his lip, trying not to cry. “And you want me to be that?”

“No. I mean… that’s just who you are.”

Wes downed his glass. “I’m just a mean person,” he said, paying the bartender and hurrying out of the bar. Travis came up to him right as he was about to hail a cab.

“I didn’t mean to be so mean. I’m sorry. Let me buy you a drink.”

He brought him back inside. They laughed and drank (with Wes showing his ID every time, just in case), and they talked like they were thirteen again.

“When did we start going wrong?” Wes asked.

“Hm… I guess I’d say when we were thirteen. I defended you from Crowell, and you told me off and ran for it. They started terrorizing me after that, and you didn’t really talk to anyone but Alex. We both became cops and somehow ended up partners. Didn’t take long for us to fall apart.”

Wes looked over at him. “Why did I pull my gun on you?”

“Because you didn’t trust me,” Travis spit out angrily, “Crowell, he whispered in my ear that he’d kill you… and I just got my gun and started after him. You thought I was going to kill him, so you pulled your gun on me to stop me.”

“To save you from making the worst decision of your life,” Wes said. Travis pulled away from him.

“You didn’t trust me!”

“You had a gun! You were upset! I was trying to save you because… you’re my best friend,” Wes said, the last part quiet. Travis ran his fingers through his hair, sighing.

“You’re right. I was in a bad place. Thank you.”

 

It was getting late as they walked along. They stopped at a park, Wes running over to the swings. Travis laughed and joined him. They swung for a while, trying to get higher than the other. 

“The jumping game! Oh, please, Travis! Let’s do it!”

“Shit, I haven’t done that in forever, Wes.”

“Please,” Wes begged. Travis began swinging again and Wes swung with him.

“On threesie. One, two-”

“Threesie!” they both shouted, flinging themselves out of their swings. Travis fell a little farther than Wes, rolling back on top of him. Wes groaned and laughed, and Travis hovered over him. Wes smiled softly, gazing up at him. Travis took a shaky breath before leaning over and kissing him. Wes kissed back eagerly until Travis pulled away, sighing and rolling off him.


	4. Happily Ever After

Wes couldn’t get Travis to pick up all weekend. He didn’t understand why they couldn’t be together forever now. Being an adult was tough. 

“You kissed?!” Alex said, handing him a soda. Wes took it and sat down, smiling brightly.

“Yeah. We did.”

“Uh oh.”

“Why ‘uh oh’?” he asked.

“Isn’t that going to get awkward?” Alex asked, “You two working and sleeping together?”

“Sleeping… no! We didn’t… sleep together. We just kissed,” Wes said, blushing.

“You didn’t sleep together?” Alex grinned mischievously, “Why not?”

“Alex!”

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just… Travis sleeps around. He doesn’t stay with any one person.”

“But… I like him.”

“Sorry, honey,” she said quietly, patting his arm.

 

When Travis showed up at work, Wes bounced up to him, smiling flirtily.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Travis said flatly, going to his desk. Wes frowned and walked over to him.

“You aren’t going to kiss me?”

Travis looked around. “Hey, keep it down. Cops aren’t really known for being kind to gay cops. And no, I’m not. That shouldn’t have happened. We’ll keep it professional from now on.”

Wes nodded unhappily. They worked on their case all day until they finally cracked it. _Wes_ cracked it. They took in the murderer and did all the paperwork. Triumphant, they decided to celebrate and meet at a nearby bar that night.

 

Travis watched Wes go with a smile. Wes was so happy and carefree nowadays. It was so startling. He couldn’t really believe how much he liked Wes… like how he did when they were in high school. It was dredging up old feelings that he didn’t exactly want to be dredged up.

When he looked up, he saw Crowell, and his smile faded. Crowell grinned at him maliciously. 

“Hey, jock. Where’s your little bitch?”

“Shut up.”

“Aw, what’s the matter? Not getting any cock lately?” Crowell said, leaning over his desk. Travis stood up, trying to get away, but Crowell followed him. “If he even has a cock. Hey, listen. Did you know Mitchell is getting a better job? Moving up in the ranks, and taking you down with him. He’s reported you for inappropriate behavior with female coworkers.”  
Travis stopped in his tracks, grinding his teeth, before he walked on. Wes walked back in.

“Hey, I forgot my… what’s wrong?”

Travis walked past him quickly. He turned to Crowell.

“What the hell did you say to him?”

“Oh, something about you having no cock. I might have said something else, but I just don’t remember!” he said mockingly. Wes tried not to heave. He ran after Travis, taking the stairs. He saw Travis go off on his motorcycle. Wes hailed a taxi, following him.

Travis stopped at a park. It was getting dark out. Wes paid the taxi driver and sprinted after him.

“Travis! Travis!”

Travis whipped around angrily. “What?!”

“What did Crowell say to you?”

“He said you reported me and got a promotion for it. But you know what, Wes? Save the apology or whatever. Because even if you didn’t do it, I believe you would. That’s how mean you’ve become. You can’t change years and years of hate.”

“Travis, you’ve got to let me at least try! You’re my best friend.”

Travis shook his head, his jaw clenched. “Maybe we’re just not meant to be best friends.”

Wes bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from crying.

“But I love you,” he choked out, “You’re my best friend and I love you.”

Travis wouldn’t look at him. He took a step toward him and Travis took a step back.

“I… I saw that spark I saw in high school these past few days. But you can’t change the past. You can’t change who you are. You hurt me, Wes. And I don’t want to be hurt anymore.”

Travis sniffled before walking away. Wes watched him numbly for a few minutes, watched as his figure grew smaller and smaller. He grabbed a bench for support and sat down, sobbing.

 

Wes knew what he had to do. He hurried to his parents’ home, using his spare key. He ran up to his room and dug through his drawers, pulling out a pair of jeans. He pulled the packet out of the pocket, sprinkling the wishing dust into his hand. He sprinkled the dust over his head, wishing to be back to thirteen, so he could fix that moment in time between them. A wind came out of nowhere and he closed his eyes.

 

He felt a rock hit his backpack and turned around.

“I bet you suck jock cock!” Crowell shouted, and his gang of guys laughed. They threw more rocks and one hit him on the cheek. He felt blood dripping down.

“Wes?!”

He turned at the sound of the familiar voice.

“There’s his jock cock!”

Travis jogged up to him, his hand immediately going to his wound. “Wes, did they do this to you?”

Wes surged forward and kissed him softly. Travis pulled back, biting his lip nervously before grabbing his hand and pulling him along as he ran down the road. They ran until they couldn’t hear Crowell and his gang anymore. Travis stopped him, still holding onto his hand. Wes panted, looking up at him.

“Travis?”

Travis leaned over, kissing him. 

 

Some years later…

 

Wes played with the ring on his finger. He felt strong arms around his waist and smiled.

“You’re supposed to be unpacking, babe.”

“So are you, honey.”

Wes laughed, turning to kiss him. “What are we going to do, then?”

“Well… I _did_ set up the bed…” Travis said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Wes grinned, kissing him and following his husband up the stairs of their new house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! I hope you enjoyed it. Comments and kudos are appreciated! Thank you!


End file.
